


By the green you shall know us

by Beleriandings



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e05 Small Worlds, Gen, M/M, Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Faced with losing Ianto in Thames House, Jack makes a desperate gamble.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, background Gwen/Rhys
Comments: 38
Kudos: 118
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Bingo Fest 2020





	By the green you shall know us

**Author's Note:**

> ...Going into this I would just like to say that I really, really hope you trust me when I say that _this is a fix-it fic_

It had been approximately a minute and a half since Jack’s world had started to end around him, and he had already wasted too much of that time, he knew.

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD FIGHT” came the voice from the tank.

Jack’s heart skipped into his throat, his chest tightening, mouth dry. “Then I take it all back, alright?” he was barely thinking about what he was saying, the words spilling out of some deep-buried place inside him. “I take it all back, but _not him!_ ”

The creature in the tank stayed silent, impassive. But Jack’s notice slipped from it a moment later, as beside him Ianto’s knees began to buckle

“ _No!_ No nono no no, _no_...” reflexively Jack reached out, taking his Ianto’s weight; it must have drained his own strength more than he’d thought, because they both ended up on the ground, Ianto cradled in his lap. “No! No, Ianto...”

Ianto didn’t respond. _There’s got to be something_ , Jack thought desperately. _There’s always something_. Jack’s mind and body were burning as he tried to think; all those years he’d lived, all those things he’d seen, all those miracles and all those tragedies. _All those people he’d saved, and all the ones he hadn’t_ … _all those who had died in an instant,_ _people he’d counted as friends, people he’d loved._ _People who had trusted him to keep them safe._

 _Bodies slumped around him while he had lived,_ _always, always kept living..._

It was hard; Jack couldn’t focus, his head filling with panic and horror, mind paralysed by pre-emptive grief as he clutched Ianto in his arms. Or maybe that was just the virus that was killing him too, he thought. Whatever chance he had to save Ianto was slipping away with Jack’s own life.

If he was going to do something, it would have to be soon; Ianto was already struggling to breathe, eyes half-closed and full of tears as he stared back up at Jack in the harsh light. Jack wanted to tell him things, to pour out his love with his last breaths before it took him too. But he couldn’t; he had to _think_ , he knew. His mind whirled with half-formed ideas, each more desperate than the last. The past overlaid with the present, and the prospect of a dark eternity ahead, so achingly alone.

_Alive when they went into the tunnel’s dark, and dead when they came out the other side… he was supposed to be responsible for them, he was supposed to make sure they didn’t come to harm, but he’d just let them die._

_It was happening again, it would never ever stop. And he’d take it; he didn’t care about the others, there was only Ianto, only him, only him_...

“It’s all my fault” he told Ianto.

“No it’s not.”

Jack’s heart clenched; even now Ianto still believed in him, still cared so deeply and endlessly. He was so much more than Jack deserved. “Don’t speak, save your breath” he said, hand cupping Ianto’s cheek, feeling the warmth of him while he still could.

But Ianto ignored this, face twisting with a sob. “I love you” he choked out.

And as easily as that, Jack had made his decision; the idea had come all at once, sudden and blinding. Desperately risky, perhaps, but if it could save Ianto…

“ _Don’t_ ” he said firmly to Ianto, hoping he understood it for what it was; an assurance for later, a promise that there _would_ be a later if Jack had his say in it.

Then he tore his gaze away from the face of the man he loved and looked up at the tank again, clutching Ianto to his chest. “I know you can save him!” he shouted, his own throat beginning to burn with whatever was in the air. “You promised an antidote before, in nineteen sixty-five. I know you have one now.”

“IT IS TOO LATE. YOU ARE DYING.”

“...I know” said Jack, chest aching. He would come back from this, but he wouldn’t _really_ come back; not with his heart intact. He’d come to know, in his long life, that there were some moments you couldn’t ever come back the same from. He took a deep, painful breath; it was now or never. “But please, listen. I can give you more, I can give you anything you want. If we can just talk about this, if we can make a bargain–”

“YOU HAVE NOTHING TO GIVE.”

Jack laughed bitterly, feeling tears come. “I have what you wanted, don’t I? I can offer you the children of this world.”

“WE WILL TAKE THEM ANYWAY. TEN PERCENT.”

Jack steeled himself, clutching Ianto closer to his chest. “...I can do better. I’ll give you all of them–”

In his arms, he heart Ianto’s ragged gasp. “Jack… _no_...”

But Jack forced himself to ignore him, carrying on, voice rising. “I will give you one hundred percent, every single child on this planet, if you release the antidote into this building and _stop this_.”

There was a deafening silence; the seconds ticked away agonisingly. Jack was well aware that if this didn’t work, he’d be wasting his precious last moments with Ianto.

And if it did work, then… well. That was another kind of fear entirely.

And then–

“WE WILL ACCEPT YOUR PRICE.”

Jack breathed out, heart in his mouth as he felt Ianto’s fingers clench on his sleeve; he looked down at him to see Ianto’s lips twisted, struggling to form words. The expression on his face was clear enough; betrayal, horror, desperation. But he was too weak to speak now, so all he could do was cling to Jack’s arm. Jack held onto him, hoping that Ianto would forgive him, trying to make him understand by touch alone.

And then Ianto’s eyes slipped closed, and Jack felt a renewed spike of panic. “ _Now!_ ” Jack barked out at the tank. “You have to do it _now_ , otherwise the deal’s off!”

But even as he spoke there was a high-pitched hiss, from somewhere to the side. Instantly, Jack felt his own chest loosen a little, breathing growing easier. He felt Ianto take a deeper breath in his arms, and despite everything, he couldn’t help but let out a small, joyful laugh.

Ianto’s eyes were still closed; he seemed to be unconscious. Well, perhaps that was for the better, for the sake of this next part. Jack’s fingers rested against the pulse point at the side of Ianto’s throat, feeling the reassuring beat of his heart against his fingers as he looked back up at the tank. “That’s better” he said, as the emergency lights stopped flashing. In the distance, he could hear sirens start to sound, different from the klaxons before; the lockdown was over, and emergency services would be streaming into Thames House even now, Jack knew.

“THE PRICE WILL BE PAID TOMORROW” said the voice in the tank.

Just as the doors swung open, paramedics and police and military running in and surrounding him and Ianto on the floor, Jack nodded. “Yeah” he said quietly. “Yeah, I hope it will.”

* * *

Gwen jolted upright in the uncomfortable chair of the hospital waiting room, knocking heads with Rhys who had been dozing against her shoulder as Ianto walked through the double swing doors from the emergency clinic and stood in front of them. “Morning” he said, voice rasping just a little. “Sorry to wake you.”

He looked rather the worse for wear, eyes reddened and shadowed, face pale. But at least he was up and walking again, Gwen thought.

“Shut up” said Gwen roughly, getting to her feet and throwing herself into his arms in a hug. “You gave us quite a scare there, sweetheart” she mumbled into his shoulder, tears soaking into his shirt. She drew back, pulling herself together as she watched Rhys give him a big hug too, and a fond slap to the shoulder that made Ianto stifle a cough. “You okay now?”

He made a face. “That antidote was a little rough on the system, but it’s better than being dead” he said. “The doctors say that the victims might have lifelong lung damage, but no one really knows.” He smiled bitterly. “Anyway, what does lifelong really mean when you work for Torchwood, eh? Few years, maybe.”

She glared at him, slapping him on the arm. “Ianto Jones, do _not_ talk like that. Not even jokingly. Not today.” She sighed. “...Sorry. It’s just, we nearly lost you, love.”

He blinked at her. “…Yeah. Sorry, Gwen.”

Rhys coughed, breaking the slightly strained silence between them. “They say you’re okay to leave this place then, Ianto mate?”

“Should be.” Ianto held up a small paper bag. “They’ve given me some medication to take and sent me on my way.” He hesitated. “I was one of the lucky ones: a lot of people died before the antidote was released.”

Gwen frowned, thinking of the crush at the doors of Thames House, the blood she’d seen being cleaned from the flagstones when she’d finally got to come in and do a sweep of the place.

She’d seen Jack then, briefly. He’d been speaking to Frobisher and Dekker outside the building, but the look in his eyes told her it wasn’t safe for him to explain to her what was going on; not here, not yet. She’d thought of arguing, but in the end her trust in him had won out.

He’d told her, with what she was sure was the most meticulously forced calm, that Ianto was in the hospital, and that she should go there and see that he was okay, and wait for Jack to contact her.

And so, here she was.

She looked at Ianto, wondering if he knew more. “I’m really glad you’re okay” she told him, meaning it with all her heart. She dropped her voice. “But listen, Ianto; do you know what happened to Jack? I assume he has a plan, but he hasn’t told me bloody anything.”

For just a fraction of an instant she thought she saw Ianto tense, a small frown passing over his face. But it was gone before she was sure she hadn’t imagined it. “...I don’t know” he said. “I don’t know what he’s planning. But I’m worried, Gwen. We need to find him, and–”

“Uh, you two?” said Rhys. “You better come look at this.”

Gwen turned, leaning on Rhys’s shoulder to see where he was looking. There was a TV screen bolted to the wall of the waiting room, tuned to the BBC news.

“... _announced the program of inoculation to be rolled out to the entire child population of the United Kingdom. The operation is in progress_ –” a shot of children filing in neat rows off a bus, that immediately set off an alarm bell in Gwen’s head, “– _but has yet to complete._ _The Prime Minister has announced that the government is working hard to ensure an uptake of one hundred percent in order to hasten the end of phenomena seen in the last four days. The pioneering scheme is the first of its kind in the world, and the government is seeking to encourage other countries’ leadership in undertaking similar programs with all speed_.”

Gwen looked at Rhys. “Shit” she said. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“– _in spite of widespread rioting and resistance against police_ –”

“Yep. Definitely seems bad” agreed Rhys, eyes wide.

She looked from Rhys to Ianto. “We all agree that this is probably bad, yeah?”

In the background, the newsreader droned on. “– _schools have been urged to cooperate with the mandates_ –”

Gwen nudged him. “Ianto? What d’you think?”

“– _parents are assured that their children are in no danger_ –”

But Ianto didn’t seem to hear her. He was staring at the screen, footage of the Prime Minister walking out of Downing Street. “…One hundred percent… so that really happened, then...” Ianto muttered under his breath. He looked stricken, as though he’d understood something suddenly but was terribly afraid of it. “Jack, what’ve you done?”

She frowned, feeling a sense of foreboding wash over her. “Ianto… love, what is it? What do you know?”

He blinked a few times, staring at her. “Jack” he said. “He’s done something… I’m afraid he might have made a terrible mistake.”

“What? What’s he done?”

But Ianto just shook his head. “We need to find him.”

And without any further explanation, he took off and ran out of the hospital waiting room.

With a roll of her eyes and a look exchanged with Rhys, Gwen began to run after him.

* * *

The hospital was by the side of the river; given its proximity to Thames House, all the casualties had been brought there, and an emergency clinic set up for the milder cases once the biohazard team had declared them safe to leave the area. Gwen and Rhys stepped out into the street a few steps behind Ianto, to see the streets nearly empty. Ianto was running towards the bridge, peering over the parapet at the river.

Gwen ran up beside him, looking out over the London skyline. Her eyes widened, as she spotted a column of smoke rising from somewhere in the city. In the distance she could hear sirens. “People are fighting back” she realised, filling with pride. “They’re fighting for their kids.”

“Though, when did it turn into _all_ the kids?” Rhys wondered aloud. “I thought they wanted ten percent, before.”

Ianto didn’t answer; he seemed as though he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Dunno” said Gwen. “But we’ll find out, and put a stop to it. First of all, we need to–”

But she didn’t get any further, as at that moment an overwhelming gust of wind caught them; it was so fierce that for a moment she thought she’d been hit in the back, the air stolen from her lungs as she had to cling to the bridge parapet for balance.

“What the _hell_ –” she began, before the wind came again, in the other direction this time, making her stumble back. It was all around them, a chaotic whorl of air, whipping the murky brown waters of the Thames to white, roiling froth.

And it was getting dark too, she saw, storm clouds rolling in quicker than any natural change in the weather Gwen had ever seen. The three of them stared up, eyes wide; the sky was suddenly awhirl with what looked like a hurricane, clouds the deep sickening purple of a fresh bruise, forming a vortex over London. As they watched, lightning flashed from the centre of the storm, down onto the city. In the distance Gwen could hear emergency alarms, loud noise, people shouting in unmistakable fear. And around them, the wind was rising, whirling upwards. Above a helicopter was struggling through the storm, buffeted by the sucking strength of it; Gwen gasped out loud as she watched it pitch and roll and spin in a circle like a tiny toy boat amidst the maelstrom.

The wind was rising so high now that it was hard to stay upright; she clutched at Rhys’s hand on one side, fingers laced together tightly enough that both their knuckles were white. Her other arm slipped through Ianto’s, the three of them clinging together as best they could to keep their balance.

She heard Ianto’s voice beside her, distraught. “What did Jack do?” he rasped. He was yelling over the howl of the gale, not two feet away, and yet Gwen could hardly make out his words. It was plain how afraid he was though. “ _What’s he done?!?_ ”

“I dunno, but we can’t stay here!” Rhys yelled. “We’re gonna get–”

But he broke off as Gwen screamed, pointing down the river; lightning had struck the London Eye, blinding fissures painted across her retinas. A moment later, there was a horrible groan of failing metal, and more screaming, as the whole structure began to tip sideways over the Thames, plucked from its foundations on the bank like a kite in a spring breeze.

But even as it fell – sending up a gout of river water that was instantly picked up by the gale and blown away – there was something else; a great cosmic rippling in the sky above, as though something were breaking through into reality. Something vast and dull silver, smooth mechanical parts lining its hull.

“Bloody Christ!” gasped Rhys. “That’s a spaceship! A great big fucking spaceship, right over London! And it was invisible...”

“Not anymore!” said Ianto grimly. “Its cloaking must be failing. I think it’s going to–”

But before he could get any further, his words were drowned. Not that they were necessary; it was clear enough what was happening – though Gwen couldn’t begin to guess why – as the spaceship began to dull and rust before their eyes, parts sloughing off as the metal failed. There was something green spreading across the surface, pushing its way out through the cracks, and before they knew it, the whole thing was breaking up.

“Get down!” shouted Ianto, but it was too late; chunks of rusted, green-tinged metal were already dropping away, the whole thing disintegrating before their eyes as though hundreds of years of weathering and metal fatigue were happening in seconds.

As they watched, the debris began to fall, spiraling downwards slowly as though on cushions of air. Gwen stared up, making to run away as a flaming piece came down overhead, drifting like a sycamore seed and throwing off trails of smoke. But as it came closer, she saw its trajectory was actually towards the river: a vast burst of steam and smoke hissed from the water as it made contact, a stench of burning metal and river water hitting them a moment later. But they were unharmed; once they’d got up from where they’d ducked down behind the bridge parapet, they stared at it together in wide-eyed disbelief.

“What’s it doing?” said Rhys, squinting at the chunk of debris. Gwen shook her head in bemused silence, squinting too. It looked like the outside of some sort of rounded metal tank, blackened by smoke, the edges of it torn ragged as though by a powerful blast. It was huge, spanning almost half the width of the Thames, sitting right in the middle beside the bridge.

And Rhys was right; something was happening to it, some strange green coating crawling its way across the outside. At first Gwen tensed, wondering if this was some kind of alien… _something_ , that would try to harm them. But before she could go for her gun, she heard Ianto’s voice beside her, quiet with disbelief. “I think it’s… _growing?_ ”

Gwen was about to ask what he meant, when she realised for herself; now she looked a little harder, she saw that the green covering the metal’s surface was actually, inexplicably,a coating of thick, verdant moss. And that wasn’t all; as they watched, ferns began to come up from it, fiddleheads unfurling to the sunlight.

And it _was_ sunny now, she realised incredulously, the clouds of before parting as quickly as they’d come to reveal a clear sky, brilliantly blue. And the greenery was still growing, other plants emerging now; tall pink foxgloves, bright white anemones like stars, dark green ivy coiling across it all. There were mushrooms too, rings of them bursting up from the coating of rich moss and emerald grass, incongruous against the city and dull water and the drifting, oily smoke. Gwen looked between Rhys, who looked utterly perplexed, and Ianto, who was frowning, staring intently at the plants.

“What is it, Ianto?” she asked him, catching on. “D’you know what this is?”

He turned to look at her. “Jasmine” he said, swallowing nervously. “I read the file, back then.”

She blinked. “Jasmine... like the flower? Dunno if I’d be able to recognise it in all that lot...” she squinted.

But Ianto was shaking his head. “No! No, Jasmine. The little girl, remember?”

Her mouth dropped open; of course. She hadn’t thought of that case in a long time, that early horror of her time at Torchwood, but...

“The children” Gwen said slowly. “The faeries, and their chosen ones...”

Ianto nodded slowly. “What if–”

“Bloody hell” said Rhys, breaking into their shared moment of frightened realisation, “what’re those?”

Gwen followed his gaze up to the trees along the embankment by Thames House, swaying and shuddering in the wind. Their branches seemed to roil and shake, grey-green shapes flickering into existence amidst them.

She gasped, recognising them immediately; she’d seen them before, on a horrible afternoon in a back garden in Cardiff. She’d seen what a few of them could do, but now they were everywhere, emerging from the tops of the trees lining the river bank on the other side. She glanced sideways at Ianto, who was staring at them wide-eyed; he hadn’t actually been there that day, she suddenly remembered, hadn’t seen them in the flesh. She reached down and grabbed his arm, squeezing Rhys’s hand tighter, trying to instill some comfort. But given how afraid she was herself, she wasn’t sure it was doing much good.

They watched as the faeries took flight, screaming and chittering into the sky in hoards. And not just from the trees lining the bank: they must have come from of every tree in London, Gwen thought, and they were all congregating in the air, flying over the city towards…

“Thames House” said Ianto, swallowing nervously. “They’re all heading for Thames House!”

She saw that he was right; as they watched, the first wave of them landed on the vaulted glass roof of the top floor. They heard the shattering of it even where they stood now on the bridge. The whole area was cordoned off, flashing emergency lights from ambulances and military vehicles still parked on the ground, but they began to hear screams from the surrounding area, people running along the bank to get further away from what had become a veritable torrent of flying grey-green shapes, streaming down into the smashed hole in the roof.

“Should we… do something about this?” said Ianto doubtfully.

Gwen frowned, staring at the chaos unfolding above for a moment longer, before holding him back. “Let’s just… wait for a bit, see how it plays out.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but before he could, several of the shapes burst out of the roof of Thames House again, shrieking in what could only be triumph, vicious and inhuman.

They were holding something between them.

“What’s that?” yelped Rhys. “What’s that they’ve got?”

“Shit! We need to get closer to get a proper look.”

“No” said Ianto, “that’s...” he tailed off, as they all realised at the same time what it was.

It was the thing in the tank, Gwen knew, even from this distance. The faeries were tearing it limb from limb, gnawing at hunks of alien mandible and screaming out a horrifying battle cry that made every part of Gwen’s brain cower in fear at the otherworldly _wrongness_ of it: it was a sound that felt older than the world, older than time itself, and yet somehow outside it.

And the three of them were running again, along the bridge and closer to get a better look, as the faeries rose into the air. One of them was holding something, and it didn’t look the same as the alien creature; Gwen watched, squinting into the distance, as they cradled it gently between them. Something small and pallid, that they were treating like it was a precious treasure, flying it gently to the ground outside the front of the building.

And then she gasped, as realisation came. “Oh my god... it’s the _child_ ” she breathed. “The child from the tank...” her heart clenched in her chest as she remembered that empty-eyed, emaciated form, that pale blue gaze. Her mind raced, putting the pieces together. “The child… was a chosen one?”

Neither of them answered; they only watched as the faeries landed on the ground outside Thames House, sending the remaining soldiers and police guarding the cordon scattering in fear.

They watched, as the faeries formed a sort of loose circle around the one holding the child. They watched, as all of them began to sparkle, to glow white and green like the sun through dappled leaves in ancient woodlands before winking out of existence, leaving nothing behind but a swirl of green, quickly scattered by the last of the wind.

“They always protect their own” said Ianto, into the stunned silence after. “When every child on earth was under threat...”

“Jack knew” said Gwen.

Ianto nodded, a smile starting to spread across his face, tentative but desperately relieved. “He tricked them.”

“Uh, any time you two want to start explaining what you’re talking about…?” put in Rhys.

Gwen had to laugh; Ianto was smiling fully now, though he still looked a little disturbed. She knew the feeling. “Okay” she said, coming to take Rhys’s hands in hers. “Now, maybe we should go find somewhere to sit down or something, because this is going to take a while to explain. What you need to know though, is that faeries exist–”

“Aw, come off it” broke in Rhys, with a laugh. “Aliens, yeah I can get used to that. But faeries? You’re having me on, love.”

“She’s not” came a familiar voice from behind them. “She’s really, really not.” They all turned to see Jack standing there on the bridge, arms folded over his chest. Despite the bright sunshine streaming down on him, Jack looked troubled, glancing over all three of them and the surrounding street, as though checking everything over for damage.

“Jack!” said Gwen, running to hug him. She pulled back from him, glad to see him as he clasped arms with Rhys in relieved greeting, before pulling away. She watched as his eyes locked with Ianto’s; something was passing between them, she thought. Something different from usual. Not for the first time, she wondered exactly what had happened in Thames House.

And then the moment was over, and Jack was pulling Ianto into his arms, Ianto burying his face in Jack’s shoulder for a long, long moment before Jack pulled back and kissed him with utmost tenderness.

Gwen turned away, wanting to give them this moment to themselves, and clasped hands with Rhys, staring out over the city. Smoke was rising from multiple points along the skyline now, tall columns climbing up to the clear sky. She could hear emergency sirens in every direction, hear people shouting and engines beginning to roar.

She looked at Rhys, and gave him a tired smile. “Well” she said. “It looks like we’re going to have a _lot_ of cleaning up to do. But I think the worst is over, love.”

Rhys leaned the side of his head against hers and kissed her temple. “Here’s hoping.”

* * *

“Newspaper” said Ianto, coming into the room dressed in his borrowed pyjamas, hair damp from the shower, throwing down the paper on the bed. “Tish just got hold of the evening edition. They were nearly completely sold out.”

Jack looked up at him, then picked up the paper and unfolded it. “World’s children saved by military drones” he read. “Program of aerosolised inoculation a complete success?”

“Utter dross obviously, with all the hallmarks of UNIT’s most half-hearted cover-ups. Still, it’ll give the conspiracy nutjobs something to chew on for a bit. Something that’s not us, at least” said Ianto. “Francine’s got the TV on downstairs if you want to watch the news, but it’s not much more coherent.”

Jack put down the newspaper. “I’ll wait until tomorrow” he said, patting the camp bed beside him. They were staying in Francine Jones’s house before heading back to Cardiff in the morning, and having surrendered the guest bedroom to Gwen and Rhys, they were having to make do with the dusty attic storage room. Not that Jack minded, especially; he actually felt rather relieved that he’d be spending the night pressed close to Ianto on a narrow bed. After what had happened, he’d rather have him close, keep his arms around Ianto and never let him go. He did worry was about the dust, with the damage done to Ianto’s lungs, but he seemed to be doing well enough so far.

At his motion, Ianto came and sat down beside him. There was a silence between them, the heavy sort that spoke of the things they badly needed to talk about, pressing through from the other side. Jack sighed; he could feel it coming now, and he supposed he’d delayed as long as he plausibly could.

But before he could speak, Ianto raised his eyes and looked at him. “What you did, back in Thames House...” Ianto seemed like he didn’t entirely know what he wanted to ask, gaze piercing through Jack as though searching for something, desperate for assurance.

Jack laughed a little, sharp and painful in his throat. “Used to be a con-man for a while. Pulling scams is like riding a bike, I guess.”

Ianto blinked slowly at him. “...Well, that’s something we’ll have to unpack at a later date. But anyway. What you did...”

“...I’m not proud of it, Ianto.”

Ianto nodded, thoughtful and carefully blank-faced. “One hundred percent” he said. “Why offer all of them? You didn’t need to, I assume. The faeries would have come anyway.”

“Maybe” said Jack. “But I wanted all of them, for the kids’ sake... the biggest army I could get fighting against the 456. Ten percent of children includes ten percent of chosen ones. But _e_ _very_ child on earth includes _every_ chosen one, so...” he shrugged. “Besides. When I was in that room, when you were...” he trailed off. “I needed something to get that thing’s attention. To make it stop and _listen_. I was running out of time to save...”

“Everyone in Thames House” supplied Ianto.

“...Yeah.” Jack laughed, a little self-consciously. “...Plus, I wasn’t at my most rational right at that moment.”

“Well, neither was I, I suppose” said Ianto, and their gazes caught for a long, fraught moment before parting again. “But I didn’t go making wild gambles with potentially world-altering consequences.”

 _No_ , thought Jack, heart clenching in his chest. _Just quiet last words of love, seeking comfort_. Tentatively, he put his hand on Ianto’s forearm, testing the waters. When Ianto didn’t pull away, Jack shuffled a little closer into his space across the bed, hand curling around Ianto’s elbow. “I was scared” he admitted quietly. “I was so goddamn scared I was going to lose you, Ianto.”

Ianto sighed, holding Jack’s gaze. “Would you really have done it?” he asked. “Would you have really given all the world’s children, just to save me?”

Jack frowned. “Ianto, that’s not what I did” he said. “You know that right? I knew the faeries would come. They always protect their own.”

“Yes” said Ianto patiently, “but you couldn’t guarantee they’d put a stop to this. You weren’t certain. Were you?”

“Does it matter now?” he saw the look Ianto was giving him, and sighed. “Well. I guess that’s what it’s like, running a con. It’s never _quite_ a sure thing.”

Ianto stared at him for a long, long moment. “...I should be angry at you” he said at last. “You risked so much, and for what?”

Jack’s face darkened. “To blow the 456 out of the damn sky, once and for all. Because I don’t much like a protection racket. Because last time, I was a coward when I faced them. ...And because...”

Ianto didn’t answer, but kept scrutinising his face as he spoke. A complicated series of expressions flitting across Ianto’s features, so quick anyone else might have missed them: a mixture of doubt and guardedness and frustrated anger, and despite it all, blinding hope shining through. Ianto was very good at hiding behind a blank wall of an expression, but Jack was getting better and better at seeing through the cracks.

Jack sighed. Well, he supposed after this, things were going to change anyway. And there was no way he could keep up his half-hearted efforts to keep Ianto at arms’ length now; he could let himself have this, at least. “Oh, Ianto” he said, taking Ianto’s hands in his. “You know the real answer.”

There was a long, pregnant pause in which Ianto rearranged his face as he looked back at Jack; clearly, he was trying to cling on to the anger and doing a bad job of it. “Yeah” he said softly. His thumb ran over the back of Jack’s hand as he opened his mouth again, shaking his head. “It’s okay, Jack. It doesn’t need saying.”

Jack frowned, bothered by the look on Ianto’s face suddenly. “Yes it does” he insisted. “I love you, Ianto Jones.” He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face with the words, their warmth expanding through his chest. “All those other reasons, yeah sure. But I wasn’t gonna to let you go so easily.” He raised an eyebrow at Ianto. “I think you of all people know what that feels like.”

Ianto stared at him for a moment, then gave a teary laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “I know, Jack” he said softly, when they broke apart. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompts "con-man/grifter" and "green". ...And also like. me wanting to see the faeries from Small Worlds absolutely wreck the 456, because who wouldn't honestly  
> Come say hi on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe (if you like!)


End file.
